


Try Something

by bonelines, howlscastle



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Cum Play, Docking, Domestic, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M, Murder Husbands, One Shot, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Will knows what he wants and is a little demanding about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:18:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6755671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonelines/pseuds/bonelines, https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlscastle/pseuds/howlscastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I wanna try something.” Will answers finally, a brow arching as he draws away from their kissing just enough to meet the other’s gaze, his hand migrating south to wriggle fingers into the front of Hannibal’s pants.</i>
</p>
<p>  <i>“Hm, and what would that be?”</i></p>
<p>  <i>“Something… something I read about. A while ago. It was on the internet.”</i></p>
<p>  <i>“Will—” Hannibal’s head dips as a ‘tsk’ clicks on his tongue.</i></p>
<p>  <i>“I’m serious.” </i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <b>One Shot in which Will wants to try something new.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Try Something

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read, so any mistakes are our own.

The sun will be setting soon— brilliant shades of oranges and pinks reach out and span over the horizon as it begins its slow climb towards the edge of the Earth, the ocean waiting to swallow it whole with wet maw left agape. Outside, bird are calling out and wind combs its dancing fingers through each blade of grass in one steady sweep.

Inside, Will is positively itching out of his own skin.

It’s been this way, fallen into a routine since they had been on the run together and since they had found themselves a nice home, far away from where the FBI’s eyes would find them anytime soon. It’s been this way for a little while now— since they had finally begun sleeping together.

Needy— demandingly so. Will would find himself  _ aching _ for the other man’s touch, brought on quite suddenly and unexpectedly, but never truly ignored. At first, he had been nervous and unsure of himself, only approaching Hannibal with a great subtlety and hoping that he would catch on beyond that, without Will really having to say what he wanted out loud. There had been plenty of times that Will is convinced the other man knew exactly what Will had needed, but had played oblivious, if only to hear Will ask for it and to watch the way a scarlet flush would creep in immediately after and paint itself over the curves of his face. _Bastard_.

And now?

Now, Will has no qualms with moving through the house, in search of his partner, only to find him in the office, seated at the desk located in the middle of the room, all while wine-dark eyes scan the yellowed pages of an opened book. Will doesn’t hesitate in his motions now— rounding in closer to stand beside where Hannibal sits, arm extending and fingers hooking themselves over the top of the novel to push it downward with a gentle yank. It’s pinned to the surface of the other man’s desk, pages staring up towards the ceiling and away from Hannibal’s gaze, as to better free it up so that he can place his attention on Will.

“I’m hard.” 

It’s all he says at first, his tone firm and heated as hand is removed from the book that Hannibal had been browsing, pages lifting to all meet one another in the middle and effectively lose the last-read page. Will punctuates the words spoken by then planting a tube of lubricant onto the desk, eyes locked on the other man, never straying. Before Hannibal can react, the brunet places a grip on the back and armrest of his chair and turns it with enough force that the older man is brought to face him. 

This only earns Will an arched brow— he is  _ rude, _ but never unwelcome. Although Hannibal is torn from the poetry of pages, he is faced with an altogether new level of poetry as his eyes drift down the lithe lines of his lover’s body.

And my, he  _ is _ — achingly hard. The line of Will’s erection stands out clearly through the fabric of his pants from where he stands, slightly leaned in with one hand still clutched over the armrest of the chair that Hannibal occupies, looming over him and crowding in close. But the cannibal is far from intimidated as he rolls his head to look up his boy. 

“Indeed you are. I can  _ smell _ it. Filthy thing.” He purrs as his arm shifts over, wrist bending lazily as a single finger trails up the length of Will’s cock - the touch being hard enough to be felt, but soft enough to deny any  _ real _ friction. “Whatever is to be done about that?” 

Hannibal is  _ rarely _ coy, but it is clear that Will has something in mind with the way he moves and commands the space, coupled with the glint of heat in his eye. Oh, Hannibal knows that look well and it stirs something hot and hungry in his core, his own length beginning to swell and pulse with blood in answer to it.

Where his finger continues to trail up from his boy’s zipper, he finds a gap between shirt and belt, so the smooth pad of his finger skims the tender curve of Will’s belly, down to the dip of his hip. The gap between his jeans and the v there calling to him to slip in a single finger, tugging him closer, over him.

And Will goes, without hesitation. Following every touch and the tug of his lover’s finger tucked behind the hem of his jeans, the brunet moves to straddle Hannibal’s lap and places hands on either of the man’s shoulders, all before slipping them upward and winding fingers into flaxen hair as he leans in to capture a kiss. It’s open-mouthed and wet, tongue pressing past the cannibal’s teeth to seek out the very taste of him, as if he spends every second away, missing the taste of Hannibal on his tongue.   
  
Maybe he does.

“Who’s to say?” Will finally answers, and the playful air his tone holds matches the way the corners of his mouth curve up into a grin, smiling into the places where their lips meet.

“Hmn—”

“We should move to the chaise,” Will interrupts, breaking away from their kiss, to cast a glance over his shoulder towards where the chaise lounge sits, open and waiting to be occupied. Will has something very specific in mind and it’s starting to become glaringly obvious as he slips from the older man’s lap and tugs lightly at the collar of Hannibal’s shirt once - twice to get him to follow. 

Will’s spare hand retrieves the lube and Hannibal’s gaze follows the action with mild curiosity.

Once Hannibal is standing, Will attacks his mouth with his own once again, hands one either side of his face and knees bumping into one another as they navigate their way back towards the aforementioned chaise lounge. 

Hannibal groans openly at Will’s avid hunger for everything that is him, before, “What are you doing, William?” he attempts to murmur between kisses.

But Will doesn’t allow his lover the time to think better of the situation— to suggest that they relocate to the bedroom, or that they wait until he’s out of clothing that doesn’t wrinkle so easily. No, he’s far too impatient for any of that right now and, if he’s come to realize anything over the time that they’ve been together, it’s that it’s very unlike Hannibal to argue with a needy and wanton Will Graham. Although selfish in many ways, selfish would never be a word to describe Hannibal Lecter’s lovemaking. Indeed, quite the opposite.

When the back of the taller man’s knees hit the edge of the chaise, Will promptly pushes palms into his chest. Hannibal sinks down under Will with a grunt and, the moment his back hits the cushions, Will follows to straddle him, lean thighs trapping the bulk of his thick ones. Hannibal’s brows raise and a protest sits on the tip of his tongue, but he decides to swallow his words with a gasp knowing deep down that Will would insist they remain where they are. 

“I wanna try something.” Will answers finally, a brow arching as he draws away from their kissing just enough to meet the other’s gaze, his hand migrating south to wriggle fingers into the front of Hannibal’s pants.

“Hm, and what would that be?”

“Something… something I read about. A while ago. It was on the internet.”

“Will—” Hannibal’s head dips as a ‘ _ tsk _ ’ clicks on his tongue.

“I’m serious.” Will throws Hannibal a pointed look, emphasized when the lubricant makes a reappearance from his pocket.

“Apparently.” Hannibal says softly, his gaze lingering on the fresh tube.

A huff falls from the brunet’s parted mouth as he shifts to lay on his side. Hannibal follows suit with a smooth roll of his torso; he keeps one arm outstretched as to allow Will to rest his head on it, the other brushing gentle fingers over the bow of Will’s opposite shoulder. Their gazes lock as they face one another, both mouths parted ever so slightly to draw in ragged breaths as eyes darken with lustful promise. Will palms down Hannibal’s chest and works on undoing both of their pants, before slowly drawing out his own cock and then Hannibal’s that springs free with a girthy slap against his thigh. 

The cannibal, who has been watching the other’s every motion, lets slip a soft, “ _ Oh, Will _ .” 

Will knows he has Hannibal right where he wants him and he is sure to throw a coy glance upwards, before turning his attentions back to their cocks in his hands. They’re both achingly hard and Hannibal’s is slick with pre-cum already.  _ Fuck. _ It takes everything for Will not to just dip and take him in his mouth right then.   
  
He runs his weather-worn fingers over Hannibal’s throbbing arousal when he clears his throat and speaks again with, “Can I try the thing?”

“If you must.”

He can hear the hesitation in Hannibal’s tone in not knowing exactly what this _ thing _ is, but it’s the green-light enough for Will to go for it. With both hands at work and eyes still cast downward to watch, Will unscrews the tube, covers his calloused hands with lubricant, before setting it aside and warming the gel between his fingers. 

The quiet air of the study is filled with the wet slapping sound of skin on skin. Hannibal imagines it is akin to the sure sounds of a soft, but powerful wave time and again. 

Hannibal arches a brow at the tube left open on the chaise.

“William...” 

It’s started with a warning tone, but Hannibal is cut off once again as slippery hands close over his cock and stroke firmly. With a stutter of hips, the older man’s arms fall heavy and slack around Will’s shoulders and his eyes flutter for a moment. The sudden slide of pleasure is so intense that it almost brings him to cum too early. He sighs as a knot of heat in his core is released and hovers beneath the surface of his skin, a glimmer of sweat making Hannibal’s clothes cling to his skin, making everything sensitive and hot. The sigh slips into a curling sneer as Hannibal bites back his orgasm.

Will smiles to himself and inches his hips closer to press the heads of their cocks together, the tips and slits kissing sloppily. Will then strokes Hannibal’s cock toward himself, slipping the cannibal’s foreskin over to sheath the both of them - their erections encased alongside one another in a silken cocoon of warm flesh. The sight alone tears an animalistic groan from deep in Will’s throat, voice shuddering and erection jumping in his grip.

“Oh,” comes Hannibal’s answer - breathless as he monitors every one of Will’s actions, all thoughts of mess and upholstery long forgotten.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ .” Will’s eyes roll and flutter closed as he licks his lips, before returning to task. “It’s really hot. Right? Does this feel good?” 

Will begins a slow, torturous rhythm of stroking them both inside the velvet heat of Hannibal’s foreskin, eyes flitting upward to watch each expression as it writes itself over the older man’s face.

Hannibal’s hand grips over Will’s shoulder that isn’t currently supporting his weight, as Hannibal closes his eyes and exhales a series of obscenities in every known language except English. His mouth stays open, sharp teeth glinting as he licks his lips and pants in short, unsteady breaths. Large hand slides down Will’s arm, down closer to where he gropes at the both of them, just as blood-honey eyes fly open. In a swift motion, Hannibal rips open Will’s shirt and exhales shakily once again as the tips of his fingers touch on the smooth planes of Will’s chest. 

But he can’t keep his attention away from the source of their pleasure for long. 

“ _ Good _ may be— an understatement, Will.” Hannibal’s gaze turns down once again and he swallows thickly, before he draws a shuddering moan.

He watches for a moment longer, before insisting - indeed, almost pleading, “Harder.” until Hannibal’s hips begin to rock forward and, in fluid motions, he seeks out  _ more _ of this new and delightfully erotic sensation. 

“Please. Will... harder.” 

The sound of his lover, half on the brink of begging him for more, is far too much a delight for Will to give up right away. He doesn’t pick up the pace instantly, allowing himself to feel the warm caress of Hannibal’s pleasured groans for more as Will also allows himself to revel in the slick friction that surrounds them as he strokes the two of them, side by side.

“I love that— the sound of you,  _ wanting it _ .” Will hums out, the makings of a grin tugging just-barely at the corners of his mouth in a manner that’s almost playful. 

And he  _ does _ love it; every sound that Hannibal makes and every way that he allows words to tumble out, uncontrolled.

Frustrated, one of Hannibal’s hands lowers and hovers, close to taking control of the hold that Will has over them, before thinking better of it. The older man rolls his shoulder and leans back, twisted away in just the slightest with one hand gripping the edge of the chaise to give him better leverage - enabling him to fuck upwards into Will’s capable and exquisitely dewy hands.

Even through his tailored shirt, the rolling muscular plains of Hannibal’s chest as they heave and stretch are easy to see beneath the fabric. Broad shoulders dip and rise as he pivots his hips up - never once taking his gaze off of their paired cocks as they glide together within the warm hug of Hannibal’s foreskin. Despite all the self mastery and tightly-held control, Hannibal can feel himself starting to come apart. Flesh trembles, bones shake, and eyes begin to lose their focus as fingers and toes curl in an attempt to hold the inevitable climax at bay. The cannibal had never felt anything quite like this before and the mounting strength of his orgasm is just as stunning. 

“You remarkable boy. Kiss me.” With his spare hand, Hannibal winds fingers into messy dark hair, dragging Will closer to bite at the line of his jaw, teeth grazing over facial scar, before Hannibal reconnects their lips in a torrid kiss. His tongue takes over Will’s mouth, tongues twisting and tangling between gasping breaths.

Will goes without protest - accepting every hungered sweep of the other man’s mouth and tongue, their teeth clashing together as they fuck themselves into the soft, wet heat between them, the hard lines of their arousals pressed snugly together in the vice of Will’s hands. His own hips stutter forward now as well, strokes picking up the pace as Will’s own desperation takes hold and shakes free any previous motivation he might have had before to remain coy and teasing.

“Oh—  _ oh, god _ . I’m gonna cum. Hannibal. I’m close,” Will warns, mouth breaking away from their heated kiss to pant out a whined exhale as his gaze drops and his forehead brushes against the line of Hannibal’s jaw as he cranes just enough to get a good look once again.   
  
The actual mess aside - the sight, alone, is positively filthy. 

“Cum for me, Will.  _ With _ me. Just like this…”

Tension coils tightly in Will’s belly and his hips flex in answer to Hannibal’s request, drawing him away enough that the crowns of their erections catch against one another at the swell, all before Will ruts in closer again - into the warmth of Hannibal’s skin and the tightness of Will’s hands that surround them. He’s wavering just on the cusp, about to topple right over the edge, when he feels the same telltale jolt of Hannibal’s cock against his own, and then he’s cumming violently.

_ They’re _ cumming violently - together - into the slip and slide of this new sensation.

Both men angle their hips into it without any set rhythm, gasping out and pressing close as the wet, milky-white evidence of their mutual orgasms fills the silken space that they occupy. It’s damn-near overwhelming— both groaning out as they continue to move, slow and lazily, into the warmth. It doesn’t last much longer than that, even the slightest stroke and thrust into the sheath of Hannibal’s foreskin serving to draw out more of the mess they’d made and bring it to drip onto both of their disheveled clothes. If there hadn’t been much of a mess before, there is   _ plenty _ now.

Soon, they come spiraling back down to reality with heaving chests and hearts beating loudly in their ears and over sensitivity finally takes over. It’s Hannibal that shudders with it first and so, he promptly reaches down, despite the mess - no point in fussing too much over the lost cause of their clothing now - before he then shoos Will’s touch away and gingerly separates the two of them. 

“ _ Ah _ ,” Will hisses through parted lips when tingles crawl up the charts of his spine as his cock is withdrawn from where it had been previously sheathed beside Hannibal’s with a quiet, wet suction sound. 

Will only allows Hannibal to draw away briefly— enough time for tissues to be retrieved from the other end of the room and for the other man to return and attempt to clear away some of their mess. Hannibal is trying to blot away one of a few wet spots that stain the front of his pants and Will is busy running a tissue between his long fingers to clear away any stickiness there, when he finally speaks again, smirk coming back to grace the corner of his mouth.

“Are the clothes salvageable?” 

“Perhaps not without a  _ particularly _ unseemly trip to the dry-clean,” Hannibal answers, a brow arching when his gaze lifts momentarily from his task at hand to throw Will a humorous glance. The stains really aren’t all that bad, but he wouldn’t dare pass up an opportunity to tease the other man about them, regardless.

“I think you’ll survive.”

“We shall see.” 

A twitch at the corner of Hannibal’s mouth hints at a broader smile, hidden just under the surface— Will can’t help but lean in and chase it with another kiss, lips lingering for a breath of a pause, before he draws away again, teeth bared in a satisfied smirk and Hannibal’s eyes locked onto his own to reveal the laughter there as well.

"You enjoyed it." Will licks his own lips - an attempt to chase away the grin he cannot help, before, “We'll have to do it again sometime.”

  
“That, I think we can agree on.”


End file.
